Regularly Scheduled
by mrsProbie
Summary: Pansy Parkinson has been having regular appointments in Hermione Granger's office. They are not particularly productive.


Hermione checked the clock for the fourth time in half as many minutes. The anticipation for her two o'clock appointment might drive her insane. Pansy Parkinson had been coming in regularly for weeks now, and their discussions were always so _productive_.

She was clenching her thighs together in anticipation by the time she got the knock at the door she was waiting for. (It was two minutes past, Parkinson was _such a bitch_.)

"Come in," she called.

Parkinson practically glided into the room, locking the door behind her before settling gracefully into the chair in front of Hermione's desk. "So, Granger, you over your ex-boyfriend yet?" Her voice was cold, but her brown-black eyes were burning into Hermione's. Her brows arched perfectly as she waited for an answer.

"We could talk about something else," Hermione said briefly, refusing to be the first to break eye contact.

"So that's a no," Parkinson murmured. She slid further down into the chair and began to painstakingly examine her nails. They were cut quite short. Hermione shivered. "Have you found a potion that makes your hair less offensive to look at? I can ask Blaise what he uses for his dog."

Hermione knew that Parkinson was trying to get a rise out of her, and it still worked every time. She rose abruptly from her own seat and crossed the small room to the tea set she kept on an antique credenza. She cast a quick spell and busied herself preparing a single cup of tea. "If you hate me so much," she began softly, huskily, "why do you keep coming back for more?"

There was no immediate answer, and she returned to her tea, stirring in a single cube of sugar. She could hear Parkinson moving behind her and wondered if she'd finally scared the other woman away, if she was going to leave.

Then there was hot breath on her ear: "You're beautiful when you're upset." She restrained herself from shivering, if barely. Instead, she set down the spoon - her hand trembling only a bit - and turned to face her tormenter, the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen.

"Does that line ever work?"

"It does on you," Parkinson said with a smirk.

That was all it took, and then the gap between them closed, their lips connecting and searing hot. Pansy - Parkinson - pushed her by the hips against the credenza, and Hermione pulled away from her lips. "Be careful, you'll spill the-"

"It's fine, Granger," she said shortly, and immediately took back her mouth. She did guide them away from the credenza, though, walking Hermione to her own desk and propping her arse against it. Pansy's hands flitted over her back, teasing at the straps of her bra and then down her sides, dancing at the hem of her blouse but never going under it.

Eventually, Hermione had enough, and she lifted the blouse over her head, letting it slide out of her grip and onto the floor when Pansy put her hands on her breasts. She was glad she'd worn the pink bra today; Pansy seemed to particularly like this one. She was drawing lines over the lace with her thumbs, making Hermione jump every time she brushed over a nipple. Hermione could almost feel the other woman smiling against her mouth. She could definitely feel herself getting wet with anticipation and her breath coming in hot, ragged breaths.

She ran her hands through Pansy's hair - she really did need to ask her about a conditioner, her hair was so soft and always smelled _so nice_ and - then Pansy was nipping at her earlobe, and she bucked her hips and her grip tightened, accidentally pulling at Pansy's hair.

The other woman hissed and pulled away from her. There was a brief pause, the only sound their heavy breathing, almost panting. One of Pansy's hands came up and traced along the side of Hermione's neck. She shivered.

"Granger, you know I'm in charge here." Hermione nodded, helpless under her touch. "Then why would you do that?"

"I'm sorry," she said without thinking, "I-"

The hand wrapped around her neck, not quite tightly enough to cut off her breathing, but certainly enough that Hermione felt a shot of electricity course through to her center, and her hips bucked against Pansy's.

Pansy's other hand slipped under Hermione's skirt, teasing her over her panties, and she laughed when Hermione ground herself against her. "Oh, you like being shown who's in charge, don't you? You like knowing I own you?" Hermione's only answer was a soft noise somewhere between a whimper and a moan. "You're so wet, I can feel it through these panties. I bet you taste beautiful," she murmured, her hand grinding against her more firmly. "Do you want me to take them off of you? Do you want me to taste you?" Hermione moaned, and Pansy pulled both hands away. "Answer me, Granger."

"Please," Hermione said, and it was so much work to get the words out. "Please take them off."

Pansy sank to her knees, and Hermione wasn't sure how she could be in such a submissive stance and still be so _dominating_ , and she didn't quite care. Her pencil skirt was shoved up to her hips, and Pansy leaned forward and licked her slit over her panties. If she was glad before that she'd worn the pink bra, she was new levels of grateful that she'd worn the matching bottoms, the lace providing the most delicious friction.

It was enough to drive her mad, and her hands found their way to Pansy's hair again. Without saying a word, Pansy grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the desk, her mouth never leaving her center. Hermione wasn't sure how much longer she was going to last.

Finally, Pansy took one last languid lick over the panties, seeming satisfied with the way Hermione spread her thighs, pushing herself against her face, moaning wantonly. "Do you want me to take them off?" Pansy asked again.

" _Please_ ," Hermione groaned.

"Keep your hands where they are," Pansy said, and Hermione was keen to obey.

She expected her underwear to be taken off entirely, but instead Pansy simply pushed her legs together and pulled the lace halfway down her thighs. She knew that if she spread her legs too far they would rip - and if they ripped, Pansy was sure to take them with her, she'd done that before, and then Hermione wouldn't have anything to wear, and -

Pansy took her by the wrists again, and then her breath was hot and wet on Hermione's slit. She felt like she was going to collapse. The first touch of Pansy's tongue was pure ecstasy, and Hermione lost herself in the moment, writhing against the other woman's face, her thighs squeezing and spreading in turn, moaning incoherently without a care for words.

She came to the edge, and before she could fall, Pansy pulled back from her. She keened in frustration, tried to buck her hips forward, but Pansy's grip was firm holding her against the desk.

"Do you want to come, Granger?" Her answer might have been a moan, but she hoped Pansy understood. "Tell me what you need." One hand drifted down to brush a finger against her slit, and Hermione gasped. "You're a big girl, use your words."

" _More._ "

"More what?" Pansy asked innocently. Hermione groaned in frustration, and Pansy laughed before working a finger inside of her.

Hermione's head was thrown back in ecstasy again.

"Do you want more?" Hermione was incoherent, she knew she was, she didn't care, she just needed Pansy to keep going, to keep talking. "Do you like being fucked by my hand? I bet you do, you like feeling dirty, don't you? You're dripping wet." She brought the finger she'd been using up to Hermione's mouth, and she suckled it instinctually. Pansy's arousal was evident from the way she was biting her lip, the thin sheen of sweat on her forehead. "Does anyone else know you like other witches touching your pussy?"

She brought her hand back down to Hermione's entrance and added another finger to the assault. Hermione couldn't _breathe_ , she was so close.

"You're going to come on my face," Pansy said, her fingers moving torturously slowly in and out, "and you're going to love it." She put her tongue back to use, and it took less than another minute for Hermione to come undone. She was squirming under Pansy's tongue, unable to hold back her moans and not bothering to keep her hands out of her hair.

It was only when Hermione's movements stilled and she began to catch her breath that Pansy slithered up again and kissed her firmly. She could taste herself again on the other woman's lips, her tongue, and she groaned softly. This time, when her arms slid up to grip Pansy's arms, she didn't resist, only deepened the kiss and dug her nails slightly into Hermione's back.

The office air was cold against Hermione's core, and she was distantly upset when Pansy pulled back from her mouth. She shivered, for more reason than one.

"It's almost three, isn't it?" Pansy asked, her face betraying no emotion.

Hermione glanced over her shoulder at the hanging clock. "Yes," she said dully. "Wilbur will be very upset that I don't have a meeting agenda."

"Fuck Wilbur," Pansy said succinctly.

"You always ruin my productivity for the day."

Finally, a spark of something in Pansy's eyes. A small smirk tugged at the corner of her perfect mouth. "Maybe you should stop by my office sometime instead, change it up a little."

Hermione grinned broadly. "Maybe I will."


End file.
